


Ghostwriter

by Macx



Category: Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Ghosts, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ghostbusters are called because of a non-corporeal entity haunting a building. Just another job, right? Wrong! This is one of those cases...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghostwriter

**Author's Note:**

> originally written sometime in the mid-nineties

The white converted ambulance with the flashers on its roof stopped in front of the old apartment building and four men got out. One of them unloaded four strange looking devices from the back of the car and everyone strapped one of the packs on his back; then they entered the building one after another. A bald, stocky man ran towards them when he saw them in the corridor of the first floor.  
"My name is Homer Unger. Am I glad you're here! It's terrible!" He stopped in front of the tallest of the four and waved towards the second floor. "There's this gruesome ghost up there! It's terrible!"  
The blond pulled out a small device and switched it on. "There is definitely something up there. I'm getting some readings, gentlemen." Egon Spengler, the blond man, shoved his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.  
"Okay," Peter Venkman said and smiled at the stocky man, "we'll take a look at your ghost, Mr. Unger, but first we have to arrange the financial part of this bust."  
"I'll pay anything you want if you free me of this nasty spirit!" the man promised. "Anything. Just destroy it!"  
"We don't destroy ghosts," Egon lectured. "We merely contain them."  
The man blinked and then looked at Peter for a translation.  
"We take care of your problem," the dark-haired man calmed him.  
"Oh." He looked relieved.  
"Could you tell us where exactly the ghost is and what it looks like?" Ray Stantz wanted to know.  
"Well, I saw it in the corridor. It looked very much like a human being. And it took out the garbage."  
"The garbage?" the four Ghostbusters echoed.  
Unger nodded. "Yes, it floated along the corridor with a garbage bag in his hand."  
"No," Peter moaned, "no, not again! I've had my share of garbage ghosts this week!"  
"So it's male," Winston Zeddemore, the last of the quartet, said, ignoring Peter's wail.  
"Yes, it's male. And it floated down the corridor."  
"Well, guys, time to bust a ghost. The sooner, the better." Peter went up the stairs, followed by Egon who still held the P.K.E. meter in his hand.  
When they arrived on the second floor a soft whine came from the meter and Egon frowned.  
"What is it, Egon?" Ray wanted to know.  
"It's a Class-4," the blond physicist said.  
"So it will be no trouble," Winston translated. "An easy bust."  
"Finally," Peter muttered.  
"The last ones haven't been that bad, Peter," Ray protested.  
"Well, it wasn't you who got slimed all over one day and nearly smashed by a demon the next," the psychologist grumbled. "Not to count in the garbage cans one of those little nasties dumped over my head."  
"You only got slimed because you insulted the ghost and provoked it into attacking you," Egon lectured the psychologist, "and you were not smashed by a demon, just bruised."  
"Big difference," Peter muttered. "I still have a nice pair of claw marks on my back."  
"And you were hit by garbage cans because you fired your thrower into a whole bunch of them, trying to pin down a ghost that wasn't there any longer," Egon finished with raised eyebrows.  
Winston chuckled as he remembered that particular bust. Ray simply grinned and walked down the corridor. There were only three apartments per floor. The P.K.E. meter led them to the second door with the number 202. There was a plate nailed to the door with the name 'Janssen' on it.  
"Well?" Peter asked.  
"Well what?" Ray wanted to know.  
"Well, do we knock on the door like civilized Ghostbusters or do we kick it in and storm inside, firing full power?" There was a mischievous grin on the psychologist's lips.  
"I think we knock," Winston said and did so.  
"Aw, you're no fun!" Peter shook his head in disappointment.  
"Coming!" a male voice called from inside and minutes later the door was opened and the P.K.E. meter squealed. Egon looked from the device to the blond man who had opened the door. He was in his early forties, dressed in sweater and jeans. There was nothing at him to indicate that he might be a ghost. No aura, no mist rising from his feet, no translucent body. But the meter told a different story than the appearance. It said 'ghost'. In capital letters.  
The blond man looked at the Ghostbusters in surprise and his grey eyes held a puzzled look. "Yes?" he asked.  
"Ahem," Egon uttered, again looking at the meter.  
"We are the Ghostbusters, Mr. Janssen," Peter took over when his blond colleague kept on staring at the meter. "We were called because there's ghost in your apartment."  
"Ghost?" Janssen asked in surprise.  
"Peter ...." Egon's voice held Peter from adding something. "Look at the meter."  
Peter glanced at the display screen, then stared at it. "What?!" Wide-eyed he looked at the meter, then at Janssen. "Got your wires crossed, Egon? That's not possible!"  
"What is it, Egon?" Winston wanted to know, feeling left out.  
"These readings are from Mr. Janssen." Egon looked at the blond man, who seemed to shrink away from them. "He is a ghost."  
"He's a ghost?"  
"Apparently."  
Winston pulled his rifle from the proton pack and trained it on the tenant of the second floor apartment.  
Janssen stumbled backwards. "Hey, wait a minute!" He held up his hands in a defensive gesture.  
"He's a ghost? Wow!" Ray was completely fascinated. "He looks so real!"  
Peter, too, had readied his thrower and was aiming at the man. "Let's trap him, guys." They advanced into the apartment.  
"No, wait, you don't understand!" Janssen protested.  
The Ghostbusters moved further into the apartment, throwers trained on Janssen.  
"No, you don't understand. You're dead, you're a ghost and you scare innocent people. Three reasons for me to trap you." Peter's thumb hovered above the 'fire' button.  
"Well, I wouldn't call any of my neighbors innocent," Janssen muttered.  
The other three Ghostbusters lifted their weapons, too, prepared to fire.  
"NO!"  
The female voice made the Ghostbusters spin round and Ray nearly punched the 'fire' button, restraining himself in the last possible minute. A petite, dark-haired woman stood in the doorway. She stared at them in horror, her dark eyes wide.  
"Don't shoot him!" he called and ran over to Janssen, placing herself between him and the four men.  
"Lady, would you please step aside?" Peter asked politely. "We have a ghost to bust."  
"No!" she repeated. "No, you don't."  
"Ehm, why?" Ray wanted to know, lowering his rifle a bit.  
"He didn't do anything to anyone!"  
"Janet ...." the blond man said.  
"Shut up!"  
Janssen lifted both eyebrows. "Oh, 'scuse me."  
The Ghostbusters looked at each other and then powered down, stowing their throwers in silent agreement.  
"Now, Miss ......"  
"Mrs! My name is Mrs. Janet Janssen."  
"Janssen?" Winston repeated with disbelief. "You two are married?"  
"Yes," Janet Janssen said with an angry sparkle in her brown eyes. "Got a problem with that?"  
"But ...." Peter gestured at the blond man, Mr. Janssen. "He's a ghost...."  
The angry stare pinned him to the spot. "So?"  
"Well, I ...."  
They looked at each other again. "Mrs. Janssen, we were called because Mr. Unger reported a ghost floating down the corridor."  
"Taking out the garbage," Peter supplied helpfully, earning an annoyed look from Egon.  
Janet Janssen looked at her husband. "I told you never to do that in broad daylight, Paul," she said with reproach. "See what you got us into?"  
"I just took out the garbage, Jan!"  
She sighed, then turned to the Ghostbusters. "Listen, I'm sorry, but you can't bust my husband."  
"Uh ....." Ray looked at Egon, who just shrugged.  
"Paul T. Janssen!" Winston suddenly exclaimed, staring at the ghost. "You're Paul T. Janssen, the murder mystery author!"  
Janssen brightened visibly. "Yes, that's right."  
"I just finished your latest novel, 'Blue Moon Murder', and ...." Winston hesitated. "It was published only a few months weeks ago ... How?"  
Janssen sighed and gestured towards the couch. "Why don't you sit down. Jan, maybe the gentlemen want some coffee?"  
"No, thanks," Peter said hastily when he saw Janet Janssen's dark look. She didn't like it one little bit that they stayed, but she didn't dispute her husband.  
"You really write novels?" Ray wanted to know, enthusiasm shining in his eyes.  
"Yes, I do. I specialize in crime and mystery."  
"He's a great author," Winston put in. "His murder mysteries are very hard to solve. He's one of my all-time favorites. I couldn't wait for the pocket version of Blue Moon Murder!"  
"Thank you." Janssen smiled at that.  
"How can you still work as an author when you are dead?" Egon asked, the P.K.E. meter still trained on the ghost, taking readings.  
Janssen was absolutely unique. Without his P.K.E. meter Egon wouldn't have known that he was a ghost. He was a corporeal entity with a solid form of apparition  
Janssen shrugged. "I died in a tragic accident five years ago. I drowned while diving. They never found my body." He shivered a bit. "Well, I came back as a ghost and found out that I was only reported missing. I reported back, told them a story about being stuck on the open sea, and returned home. They never doubted my story. And to the people I appeared like a normal human being. I kept on writing and Janet helped me with everything I couldn't do at first. I had to learn to keep it together and not grow translucent now and then." The author smiled. "It's been a bit straining and hard at first -- for both of us -- but we manage now."  
"So that's the reason why you're called mysterious and secretive." Winston looked like one of his own mysteries was finally solved.  
Janssen nodded. "Yes. My publisher doesn't mind that because it's good for the sale figures. I deliver my novels, he delivers the money." He shrugged. "Nothing to it."  
Peter looked at the dark-haired woman, then shook his head. "A ghost writer," he joked with a smile. "Who ever heard of that?"  
"Fascinating," Egon muttered, adjusting a dial on the P.K.E. meter.  
"Please, don't trap me," Janssen suddenly begged. "I have never harmed anyone in my whole life -- and death so to speak -- and Unger ... well, I think we can convince him that nothing is wrong. He's always been a bit paranoid."  
"There goes the payment," Peter moaned theatrically.  
"I'll pay you if you let me go!" the author immediately offered.  
Peter shook his head, seeing the desperation in the man's eyes. "No, that's not necessary. We'll write it off as a good deed." He winked at him and Janssen relaxed.  
"This is really incredible. Mr. Janssen, would you let me examine your structural ..." A jab in his ribs silenced the physicist. He glared at Peter. "What?"  
"No going around and dissecting harmless novelists," the psychologist admonished in a stern voice. "Especially one of Winston's favorites." He smiled at Janssen. "We'll just leave and you can go back to writing more mysteries for Winston to solve."  
"Thank you, gentlemen," Janssen said, meaning it.  
His wife, still a protective look in her eyes, nodded to them as they left the apartment one by one.

* * *

A few weeks after their strange 'bust' a small package arrived at Ghostbuster Central, mailed to Winston. The black Ghostbuster took it upstairs to the living room where the others sat.  
"What is it, Winston?" Ray wanted to know as the other man unpacked it.  
"I don't know ... it's ....Wow!"  
The surprised exclamation roused Peter from his place in front of the TV. He came over and looked at the hardcover book.  
"'Canadian Murder Express', by Paul T. Janssen," he read.  
Winston opened the book and found a personal note.  
"To Winston Zeddemore, one of my faithful readers. Forever thanks. Paul T. Janssen." Winston grinned broadly. "A signed hardcover edition of his new book. That's great!"  
He walked off to the armchair and sat down, burying his nose in the new book.  
Peter shook his head. "Well, seems like something did come out of that bust, though we can't use it to pay the power bill." He grinned at Ray.  
"I think it's nice," the occultist said.  
"Yeah, it's 'nice'. But I still wonder how ..." His voice trailed off.  
"How what?" Ray wanted to know, ever curious.  
"Well, he's a ghost and she's a ... woman."  
"Peter!" Ray looked a bit shocked, though the glint in his brown eyes betrayed him.  
"Hey! It's a fair question. I mean, I know how Slimer feels and ..." The psychologist shuddered.  
"And I don't think we should theorize about other people's love life," a deep bass voice interrupted Peter.  
"Speaking of love life," Peter went on smoothly and gave Egon a scrutinizing look.  
"Peter ......." There was a warning in Egon's voice that Peter simply overheard.  
"I heard Janine's is planning to get you into a double date with her friend and someone else."  
Egon looked a bit mortified. He coughed. "I'll be in my lab," he announced and then went upstairs.  
Peter smiled. "I'll tell Janine you're free on Friday!" he called after him.  
Egon chose not to answer and Peter chuckled. He went over to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, while Winston remained completely absorbed by the new murder mystery.


End file.
